


29 Day Feb-Whump-Ary Challenge: Day 16

by sunshinehime



Series: 29 Day Feb-Whump-Ary Challenge 2020 [16]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season 1 or 2, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron) Whump, Shiro Has Nightmares (Voltron), Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22900036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinehime/pseuds/sunshinehime
Summary: It’s been almost three days of no sleep all while training, piloting, and endless strategy meetings with Allura and Coran.
Relationships: Allura & Coran & Hunk & Keith & Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro
Series: 29 Day Feb-Whump-Ary Challenge 2020 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645033
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41
Collections: Feb-Whump-Ary





	29 Day Feb-Whump-Ary Challenge: Day 16

Shiro jolts himself awake again and rests his head heavily on his propped up hand. The Paladins and Alteans are sitting at the breakfast table, their chatter a soothing stream of muffled nonsense to his exhausted brain. It’s been almost three days of no sleep all while training, piloting, and endless strategy meetings with Allura and Coran.

Yesterday the gladiator bot knocked him down and he found himself unable to get up. Eyes burning, muscles heavy as lead, no energy to move or even respond to his team’s worried cries. Allura canceled the training session and Coran helped him to bed. Shiro thought, “maybe this time I can get some sleep. _I just want to sleep_.” And despite the weight of exhaustion pressing down on his body he still couldn’t find rest.

Shiro’s vision blurs and eyes water as he shovels food goo in his mouth. There’s no taste and he doesn’t realize he finishes until the metal spoon clinks on the bottom of the empty bowl. He blinks once, twice. The fuzz still clogs his head. Maybe another shower will help him wake up and he staggers from his chair and down the hallway, Keith’s worried voice not even registering in his mind until he’s already back in his room and setting the water.

He wakes up sprawled out in the tub, water blasting over his head and face. He looks at the bathroom clock and less than a minute passed since he got in.

Later that night he lies awake in the pitch black room, head thrumming with fatigue. Horrible memories playing and replaying and replaying. Screams, blood smears, intestines strewn on the dirty arena floor. The crowd cheers as a decapitated head arcs in the air.

He presses the meat of his palms into his eyes until stars explode in his vision. There’s a familiar prickling of tears and he doesn’t have the strength to fight them.


End file.
